Survival

by David Fletcher

  With all these procedures completed, one was then allowed to step – with just a little steadying help – into one’s zodiac, and one then found oneself seated on one of the inflated sides of the zodiac, with ultimately three others on one’s own side, and four on the side facing. At which point, the zodiac’s engine was put into gear and its team-member driver began the process of taking his craft to its destination. Which on this occasion was a beach maybe five hundred yards away on a small island that formed part of West Falkland (the barely inhabited half of the Falklands that lies to the west of… East Falkland). Alex and Debbie, it appeared, were just about to embark on the exploration part of their voyage. And they were suitably filled with excitement.

  The island was Saunders Island, and at that moment, whilst there was a strong wind blowing, any potential rain was just sitting above it in some threatening grey clouds. It was dry, and the only moisture settling itself onto Alex’s waterproofs was spray from the sea. This he was happy to accommodate, just as he was more than happy to see that his zodiac was being escorted to shore by a pod of playful dolphins. And they were dolphins he had never seen before, because they were Commerson’s dolphins; a species found around the tip of South America and out here in the Falklands. And because they have a black head, dorsal fin and fluke and a white throat and body, they are also known as piebald dolphins or panda dolphins. And with their propensity to swim close to the surface – and very close to any available zodiacs – they made this first landfall in West Falkland one that Alex and Debbie would not easily forget. Nor would they easily forget the time they were about to spend on Saunders Island itself…

  It was like a sliver of the Hebrides – with penguins. Grass-covered, treeless, windswept and unavoidably beguiling, it provided an ideal home for some of these enchanting birds. To start with, Alex and Debbie came across a colony of gentoo penguins, many of them in horizontal mode as they ‘sat’ on the pile of pebbles they called their nest, incubating their eggs. They were captivating – and unbothered; a pair of features of the wildlife in this part of the world that would become ever more obvious as Alex and Debbie made ever more landings. The Magellanic penguins were just the same. With their bullseye-inspired coats and their rabbit-like burrowing habits, they could not fail to enthral any observer. And then there were the rockhopper penguins, who – with their red eyes and their punk haircuts, complete with yellow side spikes – had the appearance of the sort of bird one might encounter after taking magic mushrooms.

  No such psychedelic association would be inspired by the next birds Alex and Debbie observed, because these were not more penguins but albatrosses; black-browed albatrosses, a whole colony of them spread out across the steep slopes of a narrow bay. And they were simply elegant beyond words; genuinely tear-inducing – and mesmerising. As, in their own way, were a family of upland geese encountered on the walk back to the zodiac, and a pair of striated caracaras, two angels of death perched on a rock above the rockhopper colony, and waiting to exploit any of its unguarded moments. And all these birds really were as unconcerned by a party of visiting primates as it was possible to be. It was something Alex loved to observe; a reminder that, from other animals’ perspective, the species known as Homo sapiens wasn’t necessarily the most interesting species on the planet. And neither, on this occasion, did it look at all graceful or in any way composed.

  This was not only because the island’s terrain was in places quite demanding, but also because the earlier wind had dropped and the temperature had risen. Quite noticeably. If one was therefore still dressed for true Antarctic conditions as one was scrabbling around that demanding terrain, it was all too easy to appear rather distressed if not a little ridiculous. Alex and Debbie would have to learn from this excursion and in the future dress accordingly.

  This they did immediately after lunch and before they had embarked on another zodiac ride to another destination in West Falkland, known as West Point. And it was as well that they had discarded some of their insulating apparel, because on the island of West Point they were faced with a two-mile hike across a moor-like stretch of land, with some of that hike inevitably being uphill. It was, however, worth it. Because at the end of that hike they were able to get within feet of a mixed colony of rockhopper penguins and black-browed albatrosses, and once again experience the complete indifference of the island’s residents to the presence of humans. It was a wonderful and very humbling experience.

  In a very different way, so too was the visit to the home of the only human residents of West Point: a farmer and his wife who lived in a tin-roofed wooden farmhouse just up from the island’s only jetty. Here Alex and Debbie found a flagpole with a pristine Falkland Islands flag flying from its top, and a less-than-pristine dwelling, in the sense that it looked very weather-worn and more than a little in need of some thoughtful TLC. That said, it was sheltered behind a wall of venerable (planted) cypresses, and it had a charming garden full of plants like lupins and hebes, with even a clump of honesty by the kitchen door. Furthermore, inside the kitchen was a large table groaning under the weight of a huge spread of home-made cakes and biscuits; an overload of sustenance for the Sea Sprite’s passengers to sustain them all till dinner.

  It was no doubt a commercial arrangement between the tour operators and the farmer’s wife, but it was delightful all the same, and very welcome after the afternoon’s walk. It also reinforced in Alex’s mind that the Falklands are no more than a little slice of Britain sitting in the South Atlantic, occupied by a bunch of people who could easily be living in some of the remoter parts of the British Isles. It was indisputable. These folk, with their scones, lemon sponges and tiered cake stands, might not be true endemics of the Falkland Islands, but they were true natives of this place, and true British natives to the core. Indeed, Alex decided that he wouldn’t be in any way surprised if he saw more clear evidence of Britishness when the Sea Sprite docked in Stanley the following morning.

  However, that was tomorrow, and there was still an evening to get through; a task that would prove not at all difficult as the weather had transformed itself from dull and overcast to bright blue sky, and the Sea Sprite’s course towards East Falkland would now take it through sheltered waters; an ideal combination for another spell of al fresco dining…

  Gathered around a table for six this evening were Alex and Debbie; Derek and Elaine; Roy, the database; and Nick, the ship’s ornithologist. This promising combination saw Roy and Nick engage immediately on the etymology of various bird names, in which, unsurprisingly, Roy had a particular interest. The others around the table became mere interested bystanders to this exchange, up until the point where they had to take sides on the origin of the name ‘gentoo’. Nick was fairly convinced that it was simply derived from another name for this bird, which was ‘Johnny penguin’. And ‘Johnny’ in Spanish is ‘Juanito’, which sounds vaguely like ‘gentoo’. Roy, on the other hand, thought that it was a straight steal of the Anglo-Indian word ‘gentoo’, a word that was used to distinguish Hindus from Muslims, and was applied to this particular species of penguin because of the supposed likeness of the patch of white on its head to a… turban. When a vote was taken, Nick won by a margin of four to nil. None of the voting panel, it seemed, could ever imagine the rather modest patch of white on this penguin’s head ever putting anybody in mind of a turban. Roy conceded defeat gracefully, and he didn’t even protest when his reference to two world faiths caused the conversation to abandon birds entirely and instead dive headlong into the highly risky waters of religion.

  This topic engaged all six around the table for quite a while, but did little other than confirm that they all had very little time for redundant superstitions, and that none of them could really explain why, in certain ‘religious’ cultures, piety and depravity seemed always to be joined at the hip. Their failure to resolve this question did, however, lead to a further discussion about which countries in the world they would no longer be prepared to visit.


  There were many, and a lot more, they all agreed, than there had been twenty or thirty years ago. So, added to all those that had never had much to offer in terms of natural wonders, there were now a whole raft of countries that were too touristy, too ‘developed’, too authoritarian or too bloody dangerous (generally thanks to their being infected by some form of diseased fundamentalism). In fact, Debbie made the point that there was definitely scope for an imaginative map-maker to produce a map of the world that would replace all these totally unappealing countries with just sea. By doing this he would find that he’d have a ready market amongst all those planning where next to visit in the world that wasn’t on their mental no-go list. The map would also, suggested Elaine, have a lot of blue on it. And nobody disagreed with that. Although Derek did point out that he wouldn’t buy it unless China was one of the countries replaced by a patch of blue…

  Nick made the mistake of asking why this was so, and he was soon to find out. Derek’s antipathy towards China, it appeared, was multi-faceted and the product of a whole stack of issues that he had with the behaviour of this giant country. This was all too apparent in the answer he provided, one that was as uncompromising as it was savage.

  ‘If Earth were a galaxy,’ he started, ‘China would be a black hole: one of those mysterious and frightening astronomical phenomena that suck in all that’s around them. And, of course, provide no illumination whatsoever. I mean, just think about it. Over the past thirty years it’s been sucking in much of the world’s intellectual property – illegally – to help it suck in much of the world’s manufacturing, along with all those millions of manufacturing jobs. Put another way, it has managed to make almost an artform out of copying, imitating, cheating and simply stealing a whole range of technologies, and then throwing in the odd bit of counterfeiting for good measure. And, all at our expense. And it’s also, of course, been sucking in shedloads of resources from all around the world; all the coal, iron ore, assorted minerals, timber and any other stuff it can get its hands on to feed its new-found insatiable appetite. It is a ghastly black hole.’

  Here, Alex interrupted.

  ‘You can’t leave it there!’

  Derek smiled.

  ‘I was just drawing breath. Just before I tell you what really makes me loathe this giant soddin’ vacuum cleaner, and that’s the way it hasn’t just been sucking up the world’s resources, jobs, secrets and wealth, but also its precious wildlife. There’s not one part of this world that hasn’t felt the impact of China’s shameless interest in harvesting whatever’s rare and irreplaceable. And the rarer the quarry and the closer to extinction it is, the better. More chance then that it will command an exorbitant price in some exclusive Beijing restaurant, or maybe a ridiculous price if it can be claimed that its skin or its spleen will cure you of cancer and at the same time stiffen your willy. So, if you’re a sea cucumber off one of the Galápagos Islands – essential to the whole ecosystem there – forget it. You’re just too bloody tasty. And it’s not a great deal better if you’re a turtle or a tiger or a pangolin or a poor soddin’ bear. And if you’re an elephant, you’d just better hope that your local African government hasn’t signed a deal to let the Chinese build a new road in your country. Cos if that road comes anywhere near you, so too will the poachers and then the middle men; those grubby little bastards who’ll be shipping your tusks back to China before you can say, “effin’ ivory trinkets”.

  ‘And as for rhinos… well, they’re on their way out. And again, it’ll be that black gaping hole called China that’ll cause their demise. Just as it’ll soon be responsible for eliminating every last shark on the planet. I mean, you cannot carry on killing one hundred million of those wonderful creatures every year, and then expect them to survive for very long. And for some soup, for God’s sake! For a bowl of effin’ soup! It’s just barbaric; pure, unadulterated barbarism. Or, if you’re in China, just the highlight of a nice night out, probably rounded off with a live snake skinned at your table followed by a restorative dose of bear-bile puree. It makes me sick. It makes me feel physically sick…’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe what they try to bring into Australia,’ offered Nick. ‘They’ll try and sneak in anything. And without any thought for the risks it might pose. Or, I might say, for our own Aussie culture…’

  Well, this was becoming something of an exercise in overt racism, but it wasn’t over yet. This time it was Roy who added to the assault.

  ‘That flu thing they’ve got at the moment – I bet I know where it started. Just like all those other flus from the East; stuff like SARS and all those other coronavirus epidemics…’

  ‘Wild animal markets,’ interrupted Alex. ‘Those sickening places where you can find your next interesting meal cowering in a tiny, filthy cage – next to hundreds of other tiny, filthy cages – and not feel one ounce of sympathy for the poor animal’s dreadful plight. After all, it’s just a civet or a snake or a bat or some other miserable specimen of worthless wildlife. And it’s only got any worth at all because you’re going to steam it and eat it. Just before you take that potion of donkey-skin gelatine that you so much adore. And meanwhile, back at that market, a new animal virus decides that, for a change, it’ll choose a human as a host, and the next lethal pandemic will be unleashed on the world. In fact, infectious diseases are about the only things that China gives the rest of the world in exchange for everything it sucks out of it. If you ignore the lessons it provides on how not to run a country…’

  ‘You mean…?’ prompted Elaine.

  ‘I mean the way it’s constructing an Orwellian surveillance state. The way it’s incarcerating all those millions of its own people whom it doesn’t regard as properly Chinese. The way it’s seeking to intimidate its neighbours, either by seizing faraway islands or by making direct threats. And the way it’s ensnaring countries all around the world with its promises, its “assistance”, its finance – and ultimately its debt. Yes, if one had to design a nation that was a truly malign influence on the rest of the world, one would probably come up with something like Russia as the prototype and then refine it until one had something that was indistinguishable from China. I too would definitely want that map with that… huge black hole replaced by just sea.’

  Derek raised his glass to Alex, and Alex raised his, and then he asked Derek a question.

  ‘You don’t think we’re being just a little bit harsh? You know, you can’t write off a whole country. There must be millions of decent Chinese.’

  ‘Yeah. And they’re making themselves known, aren’t they? Out on the streets every day, calling for all those markets to be closed and for all their restaurants to take shark-fin soup off the menu. Or maybe they’re not. Maybe they have other priorities. Like making a god out of President Xi. I’m sorry, Alex, but as you may have noticed, I don’t like to get too tangled up in nuances and any sort of mitigating arguments. As far as I’m concerned, China is the pits, and I suspect that, if they knew what’s in store for them, the last remnants of the world’s wildlife would hold that very same view.’

  Well, that pronouncement more or less wrapped up the dismemberment of the most populous nation on the planet, and the conversation then drifted on through the dangers of sobriety and the merits of chicanery before concluding for the night. Alex had enjoyed it all: the not-entirely-charitable discussion, the company at the table, and the meal itself. All he had to do now was return to his cabin where, with Debbie, he would make one last inspection of their boots before preparing himself for some much-needed sleep. After all, tomorrow promised to be a busy day. The Sea Sprite would be arriving in Stanley, one of the few capitals of the world yet to fall under the hegemony of China. And it would be necessary to confirm that it was unlikely to do so in the near future. Even if it hosted a Chinese takeaway. Which it probably didn’t…

  six

  What Stanley did host was a bust of Margaret Thatcher. Mike, the former Royal Marin
e, enlightened Alex with this information while they were waiting to disembark the Sea Sprite in Stanley’s modest port. And he also confirmed that it didn’t have a Chinese takeaway, but instead just four very English pubs, of which The Globe Tavern was the most iconic. Or at least the most popular choice amongst all the military types who served on the island. He, of course, knew these important facts because, as well as having fought in the Falklands War, he had been back to this remote place several times since. He had lost too many friends here to dismiss it from his life entirely.

  Alex made the mistake of asking him whether it had all been worth it, and had received in response an emphatic ‘Yes’. Mike was unmistakably a natural warrior. Even though he was now past fighting age, with his solid build, his massive arms and a discernible air of both strength and resolve, he could have been nothing else. But he was a thinker as well. That ‘yes’ was followed by the rather desolate admission, ‘But I survived it, didn’t I?’, and then a distinctly wry smile. Alex wasn’t sure how to respond, and settled on a feeble ‘I’m sure you’re right. And I’m sure you’ve given it a lot more thought than I have.’ Mike gave an indeterminate nod to acknowledge this platitude, and then Alex was saved from any further embarrassment by a call to disembark. He, Debbie and about twenty other shipmates were about to set off to visit a farm…